


The Tailor

by maderi



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: (Very Poorly I Might Add), Alfred Tries He Really Does, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward Boners, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bad Flirting, Bruce Attempts To Drive A Car, Clark Fears For His Life, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Mistaken Identity, NO CAPES, Pining Idiots, Seriously They Couldn't Be More Obvious, keeping secrets, lovemaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:15:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24806062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maderi/pseuds/maderi
Summary: When Clark is assigned to cover the Wayne gala, he find himself in need of a professionally tailored suit. His tailor though is drop dead gorgeous, which brings up a lot of awkward situations during their appointments.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 12
Kudos: 199
Collections: Superbat Reverse Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Satan_jnr](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Satan_jnr).



> This is my contribution to the Superbat Reverse Big Bang 2020! I had the pleasure of working with Satan_jnr.
> 
> Make sure to take a look at their amazing [art!! ](https://twitter.com/satan_jnr/status/1277554226260963328?s=19)

“Kent!” Perry’s voice rattles through the floor from where the man stands in the doorway to his office. “In my office, now.”

“What did you do this time, Farmer John?” Lois all but snicker as Clark’s head shoots up from where he’s working at his desk. 

Bewildered, he looks at both Lois and Perry, racing through his mind about what he could have missed this time. Their boss looked as stressed and impatient as ever though, neither angry nor pleased. His latest assignment was handed in that morning, already approved by Perry himself, so whatever it was had to be something new. 

“Today, Kent...” Perry sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. 

“R-right,” Clark stumbles as he jumps up off of his chair, all but crashing into the floor before he catches himself against Lois’ desk, sending its content all over. 

“Sorry,” He mouths back at her as he hurries over to the office, ducking his head as he passes their exasperated editor-in-chief.

“You know, during all my years in the field, I have never once come by anyone as clumsy as you are, Kent. How you manage to get a hold of the stories you do, is beyond me.” Perry rumbles as he sits down in his luscious chair, lighting yet another cigar. 

“Sir?” Clark asks, trying his best not to wrinkle his nose at the awful stench. 

“Ah yes...” He hums, leaning back in his chair and looks thoughtful for a moment as if he was still undecided on what to say. “The Wayne Charity Ball is coming up. I want you to cover it.” 

“E-excuse me?” Clark had to ask, his train of thoughts short-circuiting as he tried to make sense of his boss’ request. 

“I know you heard me, Kent,” Perry growls, picking up his momentarily discarded cigar to inhale deeply, the end glowing deeply.

“But Ron usually covers that event, Sir,” He tries desperately, hoping against all hope that he can talk himself out of this. 

“His wife is popping his first child, so he’s out,” Perry leans back even further and crosses his ankles on the edge of his desk. 

“Lana or Lois then? Heck, even Jimmy is a better choice than I am,” Clark pleaded to no avail. “I don’t know anything about politics, Sir,”

“It’s all good, Kent. We’re not scouting for politics this time,” The smile on his editor-in-chief’s face was downright predatory as he leaned forward to pick up his cigar again.

“You have a certain...” Perry paused dramatically, waving his hand in the air seemingly deep in thought, ash falling from the cigar to land on his shoulder like fresh snow, “charm when it comes to people. A certain innocence that makes them trust you with details they otherwise wouldn’t voice to just anyone.” Clark had a very bad feeling about this. 

“They’re gonna eat you up, Kent.” Perry grinned before taking another long drag of his cigar and chuckling smugly to no one in particular. 

The next half hour, Clark was presented with different files of pictures and details of old, rich people, many of whom he already recognized, some he had no idea who was. Perry had decided that a political angle was ‘so last year’ and that what The Planet needed was the dirty secrets of the rich and privileged. By the end of the lecture, Clark’s ears were ringing loudly, his temples pounding with the information Perry wanted him to drag out of the guests. 

“Oh, and Kent,” Perry called, crossing his ankles on the edge of his desk and leaning back again, “Get yourself a fitted suit, this isn’t an event at Sam’s Diner.”

And with that, Clark was dismissed. Walking back over to his desk, he couldn’t figure out how he’d managed to bag himself an event like this. From the moment he began working for The Daily Planet, Clark had been careful about what he did and who he wrote about. He usually stuck with heartfelt, sweet reports that would have people awwing, something that would warm the reader’s heart in a world that served happy endings far too rarely. Clark did not, however, get involved with politics, puff stories, or financial pieces. 

Until now, it seems... 

“What did the big bad want, Smallville?” Lois chirps playfully as Clark sits down, somewhat dazed, behind his desk. 

“I’m gonna... -” He tries, throat closing up. “What I mean is...-” but the words wouldn’t come. 

Stress had never really been a big factor in his life, but when he had moved from his simple and peaceful country life in Smallville, to the busy city life in Metropolis, chasing his own dream, stress had come knocking for all the wrong reasons. As an up and coming reporter, he should be neck to neck with others when it came to snatching high profile stories. Instead, he avoided them like the plague. 

“Clark?” Lois tried softer, worry entering her voice, cutting the playful pet names to use his real name. 

“He wants me to cover the Wayne charity, Lois.” Clark eventually manages to squeak, big blue eyes pierced on her for help. 

“Oh wow,” Lois hums, leaning back on her chair, looking just as perplexed as Clark did. 

“Okay, well... We can do this, Clark. I’ll be your plus one and help steer you right.” The confident smile she gives him makes a portion of his sudden anxiety dissipate.

“Thank you so much, Lois. You’re saving my life here.” Clark breathes out, shoulders lowering as he gives her the most thankful smile he can manage. 

“No problem, hef. When is the event again?” Clark fumbles with the files he put down on his desk to find the one with his invitation. 

“Two months,” Clark chirps, taking a moment too long to register the unimpressed look on Lois’ face until she raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. “O-oh, yeah, sorry. It’s on June 15th at 7 pm at Wayne manor, just outside of Gotham city.”

The groan and apologetic look on Lois’ face didn’t look promising, still, Calrk hoped against hope that she would be able to accompany him on this event. 

“I’m so sorry, Smallville, I have my own event to cover that night.” Lois looked at him with sad eyes. “I would have loved to accompany you, Clark, but I’m sure you’ll do great. Do you have your assignment?”

“It’s alright, Lois. Thank you for offering anyway.” Clark gives the sweetest smile he can muster before giving her the assignment file. 

While Lois reads through it, Clark sits back and opens a web search for tailors and their prices, browsing through a few in Metropolis and the surrounding areas. His heart just about stops as he sees the steep prices, his searches all coming up with beautiful suits that would cost him a month’s worth of his salary with the quickest delivery many months from today. 

“Well, that’s an unusual assignment,” Lois chips in shortly after, “You will certainly stand out among the rest of the invited reporters. That’ll be a good thing though. Do you...- Clark?”

Deer caught in the headlights had to be the best way to describe how Clark felt at that moment. Not only was he way out of his comfort zone with this assignment, but he also had to find a tailor he could afford who could deliver his suit before the event in June. 

“Perry told me I had to get a tailored suit, but all of these won’t be ready for the event and then...those prices, Lois,” Clark whines, actually whines, feeling defeated way before the event actually arrived. 

“You don’t have a tailored suit?” Lois starts, looking at him weirdly before something like a lightbulb ignites in her head and she looks sheepishly at him. “You don’t have a tailored suit.” She confirms, nodding more so to herself than Clark. 

“I’m scr...- I mean, I’m finished,” Clark stops just in time, congratulating himself for the fine save before he gently thumps his forehead to the desk. 

“Why Farmer John, was that almost a bad word?” Lois laughs gently on the other side of his desk before sounding constipated and almost sad. Sighing deeply, she rummages through her purse, retrieving the holiest of the holy. “Don’t worry, my bumbling tadpole, I might actually be able to help you with that.

Worried, but also hopeful, Clark raises his head just enough to look over the top of his computer screen, seeing how Lois gets comfortable after dialing a number on a card from her cardholder book, the little leatherbound book, Lois’ pride and joy, something she protected with her life as it held all her contacts and business cards. Clark had never been allowed to look at it, and to his knowledge, no one else had either. He had been witness to a few additions, prominent people giving Lois their business card with scrawled phone numbers on the back. 

“Bruce!” Lois exclaims overly sweet, the tone of voice she used when she wanted something. “I’m ready to cash out that favor you owe me,” She says and looks at Clark, smiling softly. 

Clark sighs deeply, wondering if he just sold his soul to the devil. If that devil was the man on the phone or Lois, yet remained to be discovered, but he guessed he had to be grateful for the favor Lois cashed in to help him out. Zoning out, Clark partied wildly in his own self-pity feast in his head. He had to cash out a lot of money for this suit, budgeting running full speed in his mind to the background chatter of Lois’s voice. Eventually, Lois ended the conversation and came to sit on the edge of Clark’s desk. 

“Tomorrow at 6 pm in Gotham. I can’t come with you, but I assure you, the people there will be nice.” At Clark’s worried look, Lois just smiles, “I know a guy. He owed me a favor.”

“Not that I’m not grateful, Lois, but what if you need that favor later?” Clark adds, looking apologetically at her. 

“Trust me, I’ll sleep well at night knowing I was able to help you out.” Lois smiles and pats his shoulder before giving him a post-it with an address and a time,” Be there early, he likes punctual people.” 

And with that, she left for her own desk, deep in thought as she worked away at one of her new stories. Clark looked down at the post-it, wondering how this would all go. If he spent the entire evening looking up tailor videos online, well, who could blame him in being prepared not to make a fool of himself?


	2. Chapter 2

Tomorrow came way too soon for Clark. After rolling out of bed, he moved on autopilot through his morning routine, walking to the coffee shop he depended on every morning before work for his coffee and breakfast cupcake. All through work, Clark tried his best to do his work as well as he could without letting on that he was worried about the appointment later that day. Of course, he had failed spectacularly. 

“You alright there, Smallville?” Lois’s voice penetrates his mind an hour or so before the end of his shift.  
“Just peachy, Lois,” Clark replies absentmindedly. 

“Want to run that by me again, boy scout?” Lois snorts, making Clark look up from his keyboard in confusion, blushing when he remembers what he had replied. 

“I-I’m sorry, Lois, I’m just a little nervous about the appointment today. I’ve never been to a tailor before.” Clark apologizes, giving Lois his full attention. 

“It’ll be alright, Clark. Bruce is a very kind man, he’ll be patient with you. Just don’t embarrass yourself, and by that, I mean; don’t embarrass me.” Lois grins shark-like, looking more terrifying than the most dangerous of Gotham crooks. 

“I’m joking, Smallville!” She laughs, her grin softening to a more reassuring one, making Clark blush hard, feeling ridiculous in her presence. 

“O-of course,” He laughs halfheartedly, not at all reassured by her promise. 

“Lane!” Perry shouts across the pen, the walls all but shaking as the sound carries. 

“Oh shit,” Lois grabs a stack of files from her desk, “Later, Johnny Boy!” And with that, she is gone, hurrying over to Perry’s office, shushing him for his impatience. 

For the remainder of his workday, Calrk keeps himself busy. He re-checks the train times, making sure he won’t be late for the train to Gotham City, he spends an extra ten minutes in the bathroom, just to make sure he doesn’t look completely hopeless, even though the standard suit he’s wearing will stand out like an elephant in a china shop. 

When, eventually, he’s managed to navigate his way to the address, just in time to be early, he swears under his breath at what he sees. The store is nothing short of grand, the mannequins in the huge windows are all dressed in beautiful suits in different shades, the accessories minimal, as the suits themselves was the selling point. And over the double door entrance, Wayne, glowed in beautiful, glowing cursive. 

‘He was going to kill Lois’ 

Entering the store, Clark was met by an older gentleman. 

“Master Kent I presume?” The man asked in a soothing English accent, a small smile on crossing his lips, no doubt amused by Clark’s Bambi on the ice impression. 

“I uh, yes, that’s me.” Clark stumbles awkwardly, reaching out his hand. “Bruce? I’m sorry, Lois didn’t give me a surname.”

“Master Bruce will be with you shortly. My name is Alfred, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir.” Alfred says slowly, shaking Clark’s hand. “If you would come with me, Sir.”

And with that, Alfred waked them both through the store, past more mannequin’s in beautiful suits, showcased in tall, massive dark wooden frames. The store was unmistakably male, the decore masculine, something out of a magazine for the rich and famous. And, Clark thought with a little huff, why wouldn’t it be? Everything in the store looked expensive, and he had no doubt that even a little bowtie would hold a three-figure price tag. Not that the items in the store held any, because why would it? The rich didn’t care about the price tag anyway. 

“Right through here, Master Kent,” Alfred said, opening a heavy wooden door and gesturing for Clark to move inside. 

Sitting down on a loveseat in the corner by a window, Clark looked around what seemed to be an office. There was a massive wooden desk with two chairs in front of it, the loveseat couch he was sitting in and on the other side, a small podium in front of a massive three-part mirror. 

“Could I make you anything to drink while you wait, Sir? Coffee? Tea?” Alfred asked kindly, nodding in acceptance when Clark, in turn, kindly declined the offer. “Master Bruce will be with you shortly,” 

And with that, Alfred leaves, closing the door softly behind him. In the quiet of the office, Clark takes a deep breath, slowly regretting declining any type of beverage, as he notices how dry it has become. Swallowing multiple times, Clark prays he’ll get some form of control over his nervous body by the time Bruce walks in. 

But as usual, Clark has never been a very fortunate man. A tall, dark and handsome walks into the office as if he was floating on clouds, the movements so elegant, it took Clark’s breath away. Literally. Coughing, Clark bends over before leaning back again, trying his best to draw air into his lungs. As anything else Clark does, this too was the wrong move. 

The cologne that met his nose was something out of a wet dream Clark had once had. Rich and heavy, it caressed his skin, penetrated his lungs, and ignited his entire being. With his cheeks and lungs burning Clark’s heart sank as he felt the seat of his slacks tighten uncomfortably. Standing up, Clark hoped his ill-fitted suit would cover his rapidly chubbing dick. 

“Mr....um, Sir, I am terribly sorry. Swallowed wrong.” Clark excuses as he coughs into his elbow one last time. “I’m really sorry, Sir.”

“Happens to the best of us, Mr. Kent.” The beautiful man before him says, smiling gently. 

“Clark, just Clark,” Clark says, timidly offering his hand in greeting. 

“Bruce,” Bruce says, his big hand enveloping Clark’s in a firm shake. “Lois told me you had an emergency,” He offers as a starter, letting Clark take the lead. 

“I uh - sort of, yes, Sir... I mean, yes.” Clark stutters, cheeks burning ever hotter after embarrassing himself further. 

“Bruce, please,” Bruce repeats again, smiling gently as he moves to sit behind his desk, gesturing for Clark to take a seat before him. 

“Okay, Bruce,” Clark repeats, tasting the name on his lips. “I don’t know what Lois told you, but I need a tailored suit for an important assignment at work. She said you might be able to help?” 

“I owe Lois a favor I’ll be happy to cash out, but unfortunately, all of our tailors are busy with preparations for other clients, so I’ll be helping you with your suit,” Bruce says as he rummages through some files, finding papers that he needed and putting them aside. 

“T-thank you so much, Si- I mean, Bruce. That is really generous of you.” Clark smiles as he sits down on the other side of the desk. 

“As I said, it’s a favor I’m happy to cash out.” He smiles back, “Now, what kind of event is it that you’re going to?” 

“It’s um... a gala?” Clark almost squeaks uncertainly. 

“You’re asking me?” Bruce laughs gently, his eyes all but glittering as he looks over the desk at Clark. 

“N-no, it’s a gala,” Clark blushes and grins back, absentmindedly scratching the back of his head with a hand as embarrassment creeps in on him again. 

“Do you have a color preference? Fabric or pattern?” Bruce asks as he looks away, writing down notes on his papers. 

“No?” Clark squeaks again, making Bruce lift an eyebrow in question. “I’m sorry, I’ve never actually been to a tailor before. It’s um... how do I say this....out of my normal price range?”

Bruce puts his pen down and walks around the desk before sitting down at the edge closest to Clark. He’s absolutely gorgeous this close up, piercing blue eyes, framed by black, long lashes. He is a really, really handsome man. 

“Clark, it’s alright. Although we normally have rich clients here, anyone is welcome. What do you say we go have a look at some fabric samples and colors to give you an idea of what you’d like? After all, you’re the one who’s going to be wearing the suit.” The gentleness of Bruce’s smile calms something wild and nervous inside of Clark, making his whole body relax as Bruce stands up. 

“Alright. Thank you,”

“I’ll be right back,” Bruce says before he leaves. 

“Would you like that cup of hot beverage now, Master Kent?” Alfred asks gently, stealthy as a ninja, making Clark jump. 

“I uh, um I, yes, please, Alfred,” Clark blushes for what feels like the fifteenth time in as many minutes. 

“I will be right back, Sir,” Alfred smiles gently, his mannerism reminding him a lot about Bruce. 

Clark’s left in the office for a few minutes alone, Alfred giving him a delicious cup of tea before soundlessly leaving once more. It left Clark to go through the interaction with Bruce and how he keeps stumbling like a newborn doe. He had never been particularly smooth with other people, always feeling like he never quite could find the right words to express himself. 

That he was a huge man never seemed to help either. His father had jokingly told him that he was fed with the bulls to bulk up as a child, something which he meant had resulted in Clark’s growth spurt in high school. No longer the thin and lanky kid, Clark had grown both in height and width, resembling a man many years his senior by the time he graduated. 

“Sorry for the wait,” Bruce says softly as he re-enters the office, a couple of thick sample books in his arms. 

Sitting down in front of Clark on the other side of the desk, Bruce opens the first book, putting the book in front of him so that they both could have a look at the samples available. However, the closeness to Bruce had Clark rambling blindly most of the time. Eventually, Clark settled on a fabric, the texture soft and breathing, something Bruce told him he would appreciate during a gala. 

The color Clark left to Bruce, giving him full reign of deciding what would be a good match or not. In the end, Bruce had moved to the other side of the desk, sitting close to Clark as they looked through everything, deciding what colors would go best with Clark, Bruce spending long minutes just staring at him. It had Clark blushing like a tomato, embarrassment riding high on his cheeks and ears, even spreading down over his chest and shoulders. Bruce cracked a smile and chuckled more than once as he stared, no doubt finding humor in the awkwardness that sat before him. 

“What - w-what are you doing?” Clark asks, as Bruce doodles something on a blank sheet beside him. 

“Just creating a new suit for you, the ones we use are for more... average built men and not someone of...our stature.” Bruce finishes, a pink dusting creeping in over his high cheekbones. 

“O-oh...-” Clark hums, surprised both by the sight stumble in Bruce’s speech and the fact that he was actually getting a tailored-tailored suit. “That’s very kind of you, thank you.”

“No problem, Clark,” Bruce smiles up at him before bending down to doodle some more. 

As Bruce sketched, Clark got the opportunity to really look at him. The man was maybe in his mid-thirties, and although he looked impressively young for his age, there were still small little hints at his age that Clark picked up on. Like the small wrinkles in his skin or the salt that was slowly mixing with the pepper on the sides of his hair. 

Bruce was beautiful, the most beautiful man Clark had seen in a long, long time. Small scars visibly spread across his skin, telling tales of a man used to working with his hands and body. Oh, how Clark would love to see him out of that suit, slowly unwrapping him like a gift on Christmas morn. Inhaling the warm musk from the back of his neck as they basked together under the covers, sore and sleep lazy from the night before. Bruce would look so beautiful beneath him, blue eyes staring up at him, ruby red list, bitten darker from the pleasure Clark had made Bruce feel as they moved together.

Feeling the seat of his slacks growing tighter once more, Clark looked away before crossing his legs, trying his best for stealth, which by the way Bruce smiled softly, failed spectacularly. Coughing, Clark excused himself only to stop short in the doorway. 

“Where um... Could I use the bathroom, please?” Clark asks, watching Bruce’s face go pink before the man visibly calmed himself. 

“There’s a bathroom at the end of the hall, the only door on the far wall. Or...” Bruce paused, searching Clark's face for eye-contact, “You could use the bathroom in my office,”

Clark followed the direction Bruce nodded towards, another, much deeper, blush creeping up his body as he realized what Bruce was suggesting. On one hand, Clark wanted to use the one down the hall, as far away from prying ears and the man that was currently causing his embarrassing problem down below. On the other, if he didn’t use the bathroom closest to the other man, Clark had a feeling that Bruce would know exactly what he was going to do, which, by the way Bruce was smiling softly at him, eyes glittering mischievously in the beautiful man's blush dusted face, he already knew what Clark intended to do. The dilemma caused Clark to start sweating, the office suddenly getting overly hot. Did Bruce really know or was this just one more of Clark’s vivid imaginations?

“I um - had a bad lunch,” Clark eventually lands on as he nods towards the end of the hall, smiling gently as he made his escape, only to stop dead in his tracks. ‘A bad lunch?!’ That was the only excuse he could come up with? 

If there had been any attraction from Bruce’s side, that interest was now long gone at the implication of Clark’s words. Sighing deeply, Calrk headed towards the bathroom at the end of the hall, all but kicking himself as he walked. His chubbing erection had by then deflated completely for the second time that day, causing yet another problem for Clark. 

How long was a respectable time to spend in a bathroom if he wasn’t going to rub one out or...attending to other businesses? 

Clark was officially royally screwed.


	3. Chapter 3

“So, how did the appointment go?” Lois’ way too chipper voice greets him the following morning. 

Clark had eventually managed to crawl his way back into Bruce’s office, the man giving him a knowing look before presenting the suit design to him. Without really registering what he was seeing, Clark had agreed to the design, spluttering some nonsense about how good it looked when in reality, Clark had no friggin’ idea. He guessed it would be as much of a surprise to him as it would be for everyone else. 

“Swell,” He drawled, taking a long sip of his coffee, his mood neither nor. 

“Swell? What kind of response is that?” Lois pushes. 

“I embarrassed myself as usual. Bruce was drop-dead gorgeous and I had to excuse myself saying I’d had a bad lunch.” Clark almost whines as he lays across his desk. 

“Why, would you look at that? Smallville has a man-crush,” Lois sing-song, teasing him. 

“As if I had a chance, to begin with. He’s probably married with five kids already,” Clark whines this time, feeling extremely sorry for himself. 

“Weeeeell....” Lois laughs, “He’s not married, Clark,” She starts, patting his shoulder in an attempt to comfort.

“It doesn’t matter. I said yes to a suit I have no idea what looks like because I was too busy getting out of there, and knowing my luck, it’ll probably bankrupt me.” 

“Okay, the pitty fest is really not attractive, Smallville,” Lois laughs, “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. When is the measuring taking place?”

“Next Monday at noon, which reminds me, I need to ask Perry for half a day off,” Clark says as he drags himself up from his desk. 

Perry is surprisingly accepting when he hears the suit is being made at Wayne’s, mumbling something about quality and whatnot. The rest of the week, Clark went about his business as normal, if he had a little less strut in his steps, no one seemed to want to comment on it. 

When Monday came around and Clark found himself outside the tailor store once more. He just wanted to get the measuring over and done with so that he could go home and pout some more. Over the weekend he had actually looked up classes on how to be less clumsy. Not that he was clumsy per se, he just didn’t always know what to say or do, or how to make his legs and arms work right. Especially around the people, he found to be attractive. 

“Everything alright, Master Kent?” Alfred’s kind English accent called from the door, setting Clark off-center at once. He’d not counted on getting caught deep in thoughts. 

“Hello, Alfred.” He tried instead, smiling broadly as he gave a little wave, “How are you doing today?”

“I am very well, Sir. Would you like a hot cup of tea before the appointment with Master Bruce?” Alfred asked kindly, the small, all-knowing smile on his lips enough of an answer. 

“Thank you, Alfred,” Clark said anyway, smiling softly down at the old gentleman. 

“You left in quite a hurry at your last appointment, Sir. I trust that Master Bruce was on his best behavior?” It was almost odd how perceptive the older man was, but it also poked at Clarke’s curiosity. ‘Just who was the older gentleman to Bruce?’

“No, no,” Clark chuckled uncomfortably, “Mr. um... Bruce was very attentive and kind. I was just...running late!” Clark landed on, maybe a bit too enthusiastically. “Yes, I was running late.”

Alfred looked at him with the most unimpressed arched eyebrow Clark had ever seen in his entire life. but to his surprise, Alfred didn’t call him out the obvious lie, instead, leading him through the same elegant hall and into Bruce’s office. 

It wasn’t long before Bruce marched into the office, the force of the door opening almost having Clark drop the cup of tea Alfred had brought him a few minutes earlier. Bruce wore a huge smile on his face as he greeted Clark, the man, the very image of beauty itself. 

“I trust you have been well since we last met?” Bruce smiled, eyes glittering mischievously as if they somehow knew. 

“I have, yes, yeah, thank you.” Clark sat the cup of tea on the desk before standing, offering Bruce his hand to shake. “And you?”

Taking Clark’s hand in his, Bruce smiles wider as he stares into Clark’s eyes and shakes his hand, the sharp glint in his blue eyes all but sparkling this close. Clark had no doubt he’d be able to drown into those beautiful depths.

“Now, let us start working on your suit. I’ll need you to stand on the podium, legs spread to your shoulder width, please.” 

Clark had never been one to be shy about his feelings, but watching Bruce work on his measurements through the mirror had him spellbound, face red and body all but steaming as Bruce touched and moved him to get the right numbers. Bruce had tried many times to get a conversation out of him, but Clark had been too occupied thinking of anything at all to help him kill the boner that constantly threatened to make a fool of him once more. 

“I’m going to have to measure your inseam to make this suit, Clark,” Bruce chuckled from where he sat hunched on a knee, hand gently tapping Clark’s ankle. 

“Wha-oh, I’m sorry,” Clark mumbled, red face growing a shade darker as he looked down into sparkling blue depths, only to realize that while Bruce had worked, Clark had slotted his legs tightly together. 

Reluctantly, he slowly spread them to give Bruce the room he needed to work. The older man looked up at him from where he sat, a gentle smile spreading, pink dusting his high cheekbones. Clark wished he could bend down to take Bruce’s chin between his fingers and gently lift the beautiful man’s head enough to meet his lips in a gentle kiss. Instead, Cark was left watching Bruce measure every section of his legs, slowly moving up until finally, he would have to take the inseam. 

“Clark?” Bruce’s voice calls once more, the sound a little amused, although the pitch of his voice has dropped. 

“Hmm...?” Clark hums, looking down and watching as those blue-blue eyes turn to look up at him. 

“I need you to remove your hands,” The words don't make any sense though. 

“Huh?” Clark mutters dumbly, and the hum sounds stupid even to his own ears. 

“Your hands. I’m afraid I need the space to get the right measurements,” Bruce says, smiling gently up at him. 

It’s only then that Clark notices that he’s moved his hands in front of himself to cup his straining erection, hiding it as best he can from the man at eye-level with his crotch. If he thought his blush had been dark before, the one rushing up his cheeks this time was downright obscene. He could feel the incredible heat from his face rolling off of him. 

“I-I’m really s-so...-”

“Don’t feel embarrassed, Clark. You’d be surprised how normal this actually is. It’s a natural response and nothing to be ashamed of. I promise you, I will be quick and efficient.” Bruce, a solid blush of his own, says, smiling for the hundredth time up at him. 

Removing his hands, Clark stares at a point behind him through the mirror. Bruce’s hands move quickly and efficiently, just as he had promised, stretching his measurement tape all over the upper side of his thighs. The inseam goes last, Bruce’s knuckles gently gracing the chub of his erection, the heath from them making Clark’s erection jump excitedly. 

Bruce pushes it aside with his knuckles to get the measurement tape all the way up, squeezing his tender balls with the back of his hand as he moves them out of the way before moving to the other side, repeating the motions. By the time Bruce gets up from beneath him, Clark is certain he watched his own soul escape his body twice. 

“All done,” Bruce hums, moving to sit behind his desk before transferring the notes from his measurement sheet to a few different papers. 

The awkwardness in the room is almost too much for Clark to take. Stepping down from the podium, he takes a moment to just breathe with his back to Bruce before turning to sit down in front of Bruce’s desk again, grateful that the massive wood is hiding the obscene chub of his erection. 

“I will need a few weeks to get the suit together before we have to do a fitting. Would you like to set an appointment now or later?” Bruce asks, not looking up from where he still writing down the measurements he took. 

“Now would be good, if that’s alright with you of course,” Clark replies, trying not to sound strained. 

“Of course,” Bruce finally looks up as he smiles and activates the tablet on his desk before humming, “Let us see...-” 

“Would you be available a day in the first week of May?” Bruce asks, looking up from the calendar on his tablet. 

Checking his own calendar, Calrk notes that his week is pretty full. His parents are coming for a visit after a small vacation, staying with him before they make the drive back home. He guessed he could excuse himself for a few hours one day though. 

“My parents will be visiting that week, but I guess any day will be good. Which day would be more convenient for you?” Clark feels like he has to ask. 

“How about Thursday?” Bruce smiles, that little glint of...something, back in his eyes as he stares at Clark. 

“That uh - that’ll be fine. Thank you,” Clark stutters, unnerved by those intelligent, all-seeing eyes. 

“The fitting will take a few hours, would that be alright with you?” The smile on Bruce’s face grows hopeful, but that couldn’t be, could it?

“O-of course,” Clark couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice if his life depended on it. 

“If you could be here at six pm, that would be great.” 

“Absolutely, Bruce!” Clark smiles happily, a second later, freezing as he realizes that he just did his best impression of a happy puppy. If he had a tail, he would bet his life it would be wagging excitedly behind him right now.

But Bruce just smiles kindly at him, a weak, pink dusting crossing his cheeks once more as he sits still, waiting for... waiting for something.

“O-oh sorry, it’s been a long day,” Clark eventually says, shooting up from his place in the chair across from Bruce. 

It doesn’t take more than a moment before his face goes a crimson red when he notices Bruce’s eyes zeroed in on his crotch, following the gaze down to the still prominent erection bulging his slacks and the dark wet spot making a smeared trail where his head is. Slapping his hands a little too hard over his privates, Clark looks at Bruce horrified, as if a man begging for his quick and painless death. 

“I-I’m really so sorry,” Calrk pleads, not waiting for Bruce to reply before he’s out the door in a hurry once more. 

He manages a short ‘goodbye’ to Alfred as he passes the older man on his way out the door, stopping on the other side of the street to catch his breath and chastise himself for his stupidity. 

Had he turned around, he would have seen Bruce looking at him through the store windows, would have seen Alfred saying something to him that had Bruce smiling widely, a gentle look that would have told Clark everything he would have ever need to know about the other man's feelings. 

Instead, Clark hurries over to the train station, not even bothering to react when the grey Gotham skies opened to the falling rain. Soaked and miserable he sits by himself on the ride back to Metropolis, catching a cab home when walking becomes too much. If he drowns his embarrassment in a tub of ice cream before bed, well, who would blame him?


	4. Chapter 4

When Clark’s phone rings the following Saturday, he expects it to be his mother. He's just had the most bone draining orgasm in his life, his cock still swaying heavily and full between his legs as it twitches every now and then. The very vivid memory of beautiful blue eyes looking up at him from below, white perfect teeth biting onto a full bottom lip as a beautiful dusting of pink spreads across high cheekbones. Clark could still remember the warm tough of Bruce's hand as it brushed his erection and balls away to take the measurements that he needed. No, Clark had absolutely no trouble remembering Bruce's tough, something that had had him shoot his load more times than he ever could remember in the days after his last appointment. Long lazy days of touching and lovemaking, switching it up, working hard to learn each other's secret places. Clark was a man so deeply in love, it wasn't even funny. He had of course had crushes before, but nothing like this. The thought of Bruce feeling the same for him occupied every free moment Clark had, occupied every dream or private moment. Showers had become a daily necessity by now, and even then, a session or two would creep up on him and take his breath away, quite literally. Hurrying out of the shower, he has just enough time to sprint over to swipe at the screen and answer the phone call. 

“Hold on ma, just got out of the shower. Let me just get a towel, and I’ll be right with you,” Clark hurries before his mother is able to greet him, snatching the towel from the rack and securing it around his hips, making sure his still straining erection gets covered. “Okay, I’m here. You will not believe the week I’ve had, ma,”

“Oh?” A very amused, very male voice replies. A male voice belonging to no other than the man of his wet dreams. 

“B-Bruce?” Clark stutters, feeling his soul leave his body for the umpteenth time that week. “I-I-I...I didn’t...-”

“It’s alright, Clark,” Bruce says on the other end, calm and confident as always. “I’m calling because I need your help. Unfortunately, I seem to have misplaced the document with your measurements.” 

“O-oh,” Clark mumbles unintelligently, his brain short-circuiting as what that means registered in his mind. 

“I’m really sorry to have to ask you for this, but would you have time to come in for new measurements session?” If Clark’s head had been working right, he would have noticed how unapologetic Bruce sounded as he asked him. Instead, Clark jumped in, hands and feet at the ready. 

“Of course, Bruce. It’s no problem at all. When should I be at the store?”

“Whenever you are available, Clark, this was my mistake after all,” Bruce’s smooth voice pours through the speaker, almost sending Clark way on his way into daydream county.

“I can be there in about...an hour and a half, would that be alright with you? I’m afraid I don’t have a car, so I have to catch the train,” Clark said as he looked up the times on his phone.

“Yeah, I’ll be there, Clark. Thank you, I’ll see you later then,” Bruce says before ending the phone call. 

It left Clark alone to panic by himself in the bathroom, the steam still inside making his skin damp. He’s unsure how he managed to get himself dressed and on the train to Gotham City, but when he finally emerges from his own head, he’s more than halfway to Gotham. Sitting there, watching the scenery pass by in a blur, Clark thinks about the hours ahead of him and how he’ll survive them. 

The last time Bruce had touched him, had looked up at him with those blue-blue eyes, from where he was kneeling on the floor, Clark had barely survived it. He had had to leave his dignity behind, too wounded to ever recover. Bruce was an incredibly attractive man, kind and patient, basically everything Clark wanted in a partner. Feeling antsy, Clark does what he always does when he needs comfort, he calls his mother. 

“Ma?” Clark croaks when his mother picks up the phone, and so Clark finds himself spilling the beans to his mother. He tells her everything that had happened in the last two weeks, almost everything that is. Clark tells her about Bruce and how wonderful he is while his mother listens patiently, waiting for her son to run out of steam before offering words of wisdom that only comes with age and experience. Before he knows it, he’s standing before Wayne’s once more. 

“Master Kent!” Alfred’s smiling face greets him as the door opens before he can reach for the handle, “It is very good to see you again,”

“Thank you, Alfred, it’s nice to see you too. I didn’t know you were open on the weekends,” Clark smiles as he follows after the older man. 

“Normally, we are not open on weekends, but stressful times calls for longer days,” Alfred smiles knowingly as he opens the door to Bruce’s office, gesturing for Clark to enter. 

“Thank you,” Clark smiles as he passes, the smile growing as he sees Bruce pacing by the window. 

“Clark,” Bruce greets with a genuine smile of his own, crossing the room to shake his hand. “I’m so sorry to have to do this all over again, it was so clumsy of me to misplace your papers,” 

Clark could have sworn he heard Alfred cough something, but before he could ask what the older man said, Bruce had closed the door with short ‘Thank you, Alfred,’ and a scowl on his face that soon melted away. 

“I trust the journey to Gotham went well?” Bruce asks as he gathers a new set of papers. 

“Ah, yes. I caught the train just in time. I spent the trip talking with my mother, so the time just flew by,” Clark smiles before freezing up with embarrassment. “About earlier, I-I’m really sorry. I was expecting my mother to call and I didn’t check the caller ID. I’m really sorry,”

“Don’t worry about it, Clark. It’s all good. Now, if you could just step up here, I’ll try to be as quick as I can,” Bruce grins, looking up into Clark’s eyes as if he saw right through to his very soul. 

This time, Clark managed to keep his face straight when his dick chubs up with excitement. He had no doubt that his face still lit up like Rudolph’s nose on a dark winter’s night, but at least he didn’t make a spectacle of himself when Bruce’s knuckles brushed the sensitive bulge aside. If he chokes a little when his dick twitches, Clark would deny that until the day he died. 

All in all, the appointment had gone well, Clark feeling like Bruce had worked efficiently up until the old watch on the wall chimed after they had sat down to go over the new schedule. Somehow, the time had passed them by so fast they hadn’t noticed the hours fly, almost doubling the time they spent together last time. 

“Oh no,” Clark shoots up looking at his phone, “I’m really sorry, Bruce, I have to run or I won’t catch the last train back to Metropolis,” 

“Could I offer you a ride home, Clark? I noticed it’s very late and it’s the least I could do for keeping you,” Bruce almost begs, a desperation Clark hadn’t heard before entering his voice. 

“That’s a very long way to drive, Bruce, I’m sure you have better things to do on a Saturday evening,” Everything inside Clark screams for Bruce to insist though, for them to have a little more time together. 

“Please, it’s no trouble. If you’re comfortable with that of course,” The way Bruce furrows his brows in worry makes Clark want to gently smooth them out with his thumbs. 

“I'm not... Thank you, Bruce,” Clark decides without even thinking about it, “That’s very kind of you,”

“O-oh...” Bruce stumbles, face smoothing to look more lost than anything. “Good, good, yeah... of course. Metropolis... Excuse me for a moment, Clark,” The smile that crosses Bruce’s face doesn’t reach his eyes like his smiles usually do, but before Clark can change his mind, Bruce has left the room. 

Five minutes later, Bruce enters the room again, looking a little flustered, but with a genuine smile on his face this time, as if he had something to be proud about. 

“Forgive me,” Bruce says before gesturing for Clark to walk through the door. 

“Will you be alright, Master Bruce?” Alfred asks as Bruce announces his departure, the older man looking uncharacteristically worried. 

“Of course, Alfred. I’ll see you later,” Bruce nods minutely, doing a little half-wave before turning to walk deeper into the store. 

“Goodbye, Alfred. Thank you for your help today,” Clark smiles before hurrying after Bruce. 

They walk through to the end of the store, down an elevator to a massive underground parking lot. Clark watches as Bruce presses the 'open' button on the car keys before looking up to see where the lights were blinking.

“Don’t remember where you parked?” Clark chuckles as he watches Bruce press the keys again. 

“Something like that,” Bruce mumbles before lighting up when a car beeps and blinks. 

It’s a small, silver sedan, an older car, but as with its owner, well kept and clean. Clark knows it’s going to be a little tight to fit into the small vehicle, but he would make do as long as he got to spend a little more time with Bruce by his side. He was proven right a few moments later when the two of them crammed into the small front seats, their shoulders touching as they finished fastening their seat belts. 

“Sorry,” Clark mumbled, “I can try to sit sideways if that’s...”

“Don’t bother, it’s alright, Clark. We’re both big men,” Bruce said as he put the key into the ignition and turn. The car purrs to life at the same time as it jumps forward and chokes, dying instantly. 

“Shit,” Bruce curses as he tries to find the clutch and turn the key again, this time making the car purr and stay in place. “Sorry about that,”

Now Clark had never really had to worry about his life before. Sure, there were times when he feared he would die from embarrassment and shame, but never a situation where he genuinely feared for his life. Until now that is. 

For everything Bruce was, a good driver was not one of them. The car jerked and hopped as Bruce forced it into gear, stressing about red and green lights and starting the car up again after he manages to choke it at every stoplight. Clark doesn’t dare say anything about it, answering shortly while Bruce tried to chat in between cursing and growling. 

Eventually, they reach Metropolis, her lights shining like a beacon, a safe haven. Bruce maneuvers his poor car through the city until finally, finally, they reach Clark’s apartment building. Bruce looks sweaty and tired, as worn as Clark feels after that ride. 

“Would you like a cup of coffee before your drive back?” Clark offers when stey both step out of the vehicle. 

Looking at his watch, Bruce seems to battle with himself before sighing and looking gratefully over at Clark, nodding before locking the car, his tense shoulders noticeably relaxing as they walk side by side, just taking the moment to breathe, or in Clark’s case, enjoying the feeling of being alive.

They’ve just reached Clark’s floor when Bruce’s phone rings, the older man excusing himself as Clark unlocks the door and steps inside, leaving the door ajar for Bruce. He puts on a water kettle while he waits, smiling gently as Bruce enters and closes the door behind him. 

“I’m afraid I just have instant coffee or tea, not those fancy brands you have at your job,” Clark chuckles gently, watching as Bruce takes in his apartment. 

“That’s alright, I don’t have that stuff at home myself,” Bruce grins, as if there’s a joke inside there somewhere, “It’s a nice apartment you have here. I bet the sun shines right through here all day?”

“It does, thank you. I’ve always loved the sun, so the first thing I looked for when I moved to Metropolis, was an apartment with lots of sun,” Clark chats animatedly, so much more at ease now that he’s back at home. 

“Not much sun in Gotham,” Bruce offers, grinning before giving a hum of a chuckle himself. 

“No, there really isn’t, is there,” Clark smiles as he hands Bruce his cup of coffee and shows him to the dinner table by the huge floor-to-wall windows, now overlooking the setting sun. 

“So...” Clark starts gently, “Have you had the car long? It’s very well maintained,”

“That obvious, huh?” Bruce chuckles, “It’s actually, as I’m sure you already noticed, the first day I’m driving it,” Bruce says as he scratches the back of his head, cheeks dusting beautifully as he avoids eye contact. It was charming. 

“I uh...I didn’t want to say anything,” Clark chuckles gently, grinning at Bruce.

They talked for a few hours after that, both of them laughing and having a generally good time together. As the evening grew late, Clark paid for take-outs, even though Bruce protested loudly. When Bruce eventually left, they parted ways with a tight hug. 

“Drive carefully, Bruce,” Clark called after Bruce as he walked over to the elevator. 

“Trust me, I will!” Bruce said as he turned to wave and grin at Clark as he put his phone to his ear. Before Clark closed his door, he heard the one Bruce was calling pick up, and Bruce’s uttered ‘Alfred,’ before he stepped into the elevator.


	5. Chapter 5

Clark was only halfheartedly listening to what Perry was saying, which is probably why he walks out of the office with a new top-secret mission he wasn’t really invested in at all. Apparently, playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne had been spotted many times over the last month with a Metropolitan man, looking all lovey-dovey according to sources. Clark couldn’t care less what Mr. Wayne did or didn’t do with his life. Instead, there was another Bruce who Clark was way more interested in. 

Over the past month, Bruce and Clark had met up multiple times, Bruce starting with paying him back for the take-out he had bought two nights earlier. The food had been exquisite when Bruce showed up on his doorstep, and if Clark had been thinking clearly, he would have questioned how the food was still hot and how exactly Bruce, with his horrible driving skills, had managed to drive the food all the way from Gotham City to Metropolis without spilling. The silver plate serving covers engraved with an elegant W would have certainly set his curiosity screaming bloody murder.

Instead, they had enjoyed a lovely evening together, the evening growing late once more as time passed them by in a flash. The following night, after texting throughout the day, Clark took a chance and called Bruce right before bed. They talked until they fell asleep, Clark waking up to the soft sound on Bruce snoring softly over the phone. Clark had no doubt that he had fallen in love then, in fact, he had never been more certain about anything in his life. 

The next few weeks Clark tested the waters as much as he dared. Soft brushes as they walked, thighs pressed into each other as they sat down together, fingers brushing before tentatively latching onto each other and holding on, thumbs rubbing softly. Clark felt ten feet tall as if he was floating on clouds, so when the final fitting came around, he had decided on asking Bruce to be his plus one at the Wayne gala. 

“Master Kent,” Alfred greeted as usual when Clark came to the store, “It is a pleasure to see you again.” 

“Hello, Alfred,” Clark smiled, genuinely happy to see the older gentleman. “Final fitting today, I’m a little nervous.” He chuckles as he follows the Englishman back towards Bruce’s office. 

“So I am told. Master Bruce has talked about nothing else this past week,” The dryness of the comment completely flies over Clark's head. 

“I bet he’s excited to see the masterpiece he has created. The last time I saw it, it didn’t look like much, but the colors were beautiful,” Clark offers, hoping and praying that his rusty fashion skills didn’t fail him completely. 

“Of that, I have absolutely no doubt, Master Kent,” Alfred smiles as he closes the door behind him. 

“What was that about?” Bruce hums, lowering the papers he was looking at. 

“The suit,” Clark hums back, stopping to smile at Bruce. It doesn’t take long before deep blue eyes rise to meet his, a slow and beautiful smile stretching across his lips. 

“It’s good to see you again, Clark,” Bruce says as he puts the papers down at the desk and stands. 

“You saw me yesterday, Bruce,” Clark grins, chuckling softly when Bruce arches an unimpressed eyebrow at him. 

“Let me go get the suit and we’ll finish this up. I have something I want to show you later” And with that, Bruce goes to get the suit, leaving Clark to catch his breath and calm his frantically beating heart. 

He could do this, he could ask Bruce out. It’s not like he hadn’t already done so, technically. He’d just disguised it as something else, a poor excuse to see the other man again, to enjoy his company and kind heart, and deliciously cooked food, again. It would be fine. Right? 

“I don’t think there will be much to fix, we pretty much got the most of it last time,” Bruce chimes in as he closes the door behind him. 

In his arms is a sleek black bag and when he opens it, a beautiful light grey, almost soft blue suit emerges. It looks perfect, just like Bruce said it would. He takes the offered bag and goes to change into it inside of Bruce’s office bathroom. When he emerges, it is only to see Bruce’s pleased smile as he takes him in. 

“I think another, wider, knot would be better suited for this style, let me see,” Bruce says as he moves to redo Clark’s tie.

And sure enough, when Clark gets to see himself in the wide mirror, he has to admit that Bruce is scarily good at what he does. If he didn’t know better, he would have guessed that the man staring back at him in the mirror was some model. He looked oddly good in the suit. 

The pristine white shirt and vibrant red tie looked beautiful as they complimented the suit, making Clark’s own coloration pop, the blue of his eyes that much brighter, the black of his hair the darkest depths. The suit itself looked as if it was made for just him. It took Clark a second to remember that Bruce has designed it to fit Clark perfectly. It was almost like stepping into a second skin. 

“You look so good, Clark,” Bruce smiles as he guides him up onto the little podium. 

As Bruce works on some small stuff, measuring and humming to himself, they talk loosely about small stuff. Clark’s not really invested in the conversation though, mind preoccupied, body nervous as he works up the nerve to ask Bruce to come with him to the gala. 

“So...” Clark starts, clearing his throat awkwardly, “Got any plans for the weekend?”

“I do, Al...- A family member is forcing me to go to this thing I don’t want to be at. Why, did you want to go somewhere?” Bruce smiles up from where he’s working on the suit collar.

“O-oh, yeah, I-I’m going to the gala on Saturday,” Clark stumbles as Bruce prick himself in the finger with a needle. It was stupid to think Bruce wouldn’t already have plans. “Just wondered if you wanted to be my plus one, but of c-course you....yeah,” He finishes, heat radiating from his face. 

He’s too embarrassed to look at Bruce, too embarrassed to even look at himself. By the way, Bruce stiffened beneath him, it had been stupid of him to even mention it. 

“S-Sorry, just forget I said that,” Clark urges, smile not really reaching his eyes as he tries to play nonchalant. 

“I’d really like that, Clark,” Bruce says as he steps away to more clearly look up at Clark, the smile on his face both happy and nervous. 

“But what about that thing with your family?” Clark urges as he steps down from the podium, too scared to hope, but his smile spreading wide anyway. 

“They’ll manage,” Bruce grins as he looks at Clark. 

It’s only then that Clark realizes that Bruce just accepted his offer to be his plus one at the Wayne gala. Panic is the first rational reaction Clark thinks, but then Bruce stands before him, beautiful smile and deep blue eyes staring into him. 

“You didn’t expect me to accept, did you?” Bruce grins knowingly. 

“Well, in my defense, I get clumsy when I’m nervous?” Clark offers, more as a question than an explanation. 

“I know that,” Bruce steps away as he gathers what he brought over, “It’s what makes you so charming,” He finishes, winking before sitting down behind his desk. 

“The suit is as good as it will ever be, so if you just put it back into the bag, I’ll have it dry cleaned and pressed and all ready for you by Wednesday,” Bruce continues as he types something on his tablet, not waiting for Clark to reply. 

When Clark left a short while later, he felt as if he had entered some kind of paradise where nothing could go wrong. The heavy Gotham weather kept up when he went to pick up his suit that Wednesday, meeting Bruce at a restaurant before leaving for Metropolis once more. 

By the time Saturday came around, Clark found he had cruised through the entire week. As the taxi drove up to the tailor store, Bruce having forgotten something at work before he left, Clark felt his heart stop when the man waved at him before stepping into the cab. 

“Hi,” Clark greets happily, grinning. 

“Hey yourself, stranger,” Bruce laughs as he fastens his seatbelt before taking Clark's hand in his, smiling gently over at Clark as he rubs a thumb on their connected hands. 

“How was your day?” Clark asks, and if he sits a little closer to Bruce, well, who could blame him. 

“You have no idea how close I’ve been to being murdered today,” Bruce laughs, his cheeks tinting pink as the crow’s feet by his eyes dance. “Alfred has been chewing me out all day, giving me the stink eye. He even served my tea with a bag in it. I was so sure it was poisoned,” The way Bruce talks animatedly has Clark absolutely spellbound as he listens to him talk about his day. 

“So I think we’re supposed to enter through the back when we arrive,” Clark explains when they’re closing in on Wayne manor. 

“I have to do some socializing as I’m here for work, but I hope Perry will be happy with just a story or two. I really don’t want to do this at all,” The whining in his voice has Bruce smiling again, the twinkle in his eyes back as the cab comes to a stop. 

Taking Clark’s hand, Bruce pulls them both out of the cab, throwing a few bills at the driver before Clark can do anything about it. Bruce makes a beeline to the massive front doors, Clark spluttering and protesting behind him. The man at the door looks over their invitation with a raised eyebrow before nodding to the men behind him. 

The entrance hall of Wayne manor is absolutely huge. Clark feels like they just entered a different dimension as Bruce pulls on his hand as they walked into the great hall. Once there, Clark was unable to hold in the gasp that escaped his lips. The great hall was decorated beautifully in warm gold and honey colors, the room both managing to be dim and lit at the same time as people in what looked to be expensive clothes and accessories danced and laughed. 

“This is amazing,” Clark wonders aloud, snapping back to reality when Bruce gently squeezed his hand. 

“Let’s move to the back to see who’s where.” Bruce murmurs as they walk close to each other, Bruce leading the way until they reached the far wall. 

They got a good fifteen minutes alone before someone spotted them. 

“Bruce, darling, who is this handsome man you’re hiding away with?” An older woman in a lowcut dress and a heavy-looking diamond necklace asked as she and who must be her husband made their way over to them. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Harroldson, how nice to see you,” Bruce greets the couple, all smiles and charm, “This is Clark Kent, Clark this is Mr. and Mrs. Harroldson. They’re old friends of my parents.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Clark smiles and shakes Mrs. Harroldson’s hand. 

“How do you know Brucie here, Mr. Kent?” The old man asks with a glint in his eyes as his wife leans in, hand gesturing to a group of people standing just out of earshot. 

‘When had they sneaked up to them?’ Clark thought distantly before giving his attention to the man in front of him again. 

“Bruce and I met when I -” Clark starts but is suddenly pulled away when Alfred’s voice calls to Bruce. 

“Excuse us, Glenn, that’s our cue,” Bruce says as he moves toward the middle of the room where people are dancing. 

“B-Bruce... That was rude,” Clark huffs as Bruce comes to a stop, “I-I don’t know how to dance,” Clark whispers when people start whispering. 

“Forgive me,” Bruce says a second before he wounds his arm around Clark’s waist, shouldering Clark’s arm over his neck as he raises their intertwined hands. A moment later, they’re floating through the room, the music flowing through them as Bruce guides them through the motions. 

It’s the closest thing to flying Clark has ever felt, the motions so smooth, Bruce so certain and solid holding onto him as they move. Clark can distantly hear o-ing and awwing as they flow by bystanders, the sounds all blending together, almost making Clark dizzy. He loses sight of how long they dance like that, the two of them cocooned together, drowning out the outside world. 

He feels like he’s dreaming when he looks into Bruce’s eyes, the gentle but somehow sad-looking smile taking Clark’s breath away as they hold their own whispered conversation as Bruce leads them through yet another song. It isn’t until Clark is starting to feel dizzy that Bruce slows them down and slowly walks them out of the dancing circle the middle of the room has become. Bruce is smiling so openly at him as their fingers stay locked with each other. When Bruce lifts their intertwined fingers and kisses Clark's knuckles as he stares into his eyes, Clark's heart flutters so violently that the grin that spreads across his face must look intoxicated. 

“Listen, I have to tell you -” Bruce starts but is interrupted by a group of older people. 

“Mr. Wayne, let me congratulate you on such superior dancing.” A man with a great, big white mustache says loudly.

“Who is your excellent dance partner, Mr. Wayne?” A thin grey-haired man asks at the same time, making Bruce’s hand twitch strongly around Clark's hand.

“Bruce, darling, that was magnificent, an absolute joy to witness,” Mrs. Harroldson presses her way to the front. “Clark, sweetie, what a beautiful form you carry,” 

Clark feels his blood run cold as the group continues to chat animatedly, a series of ‘Mr. Wayne’ and ‘Brucie’ swimming around them. Clark’s head spins sickeningly fast as he feels his heart breaking. Bruce's hand is clammy where it holds onto Clark's, almost painfully hard.

“Please excuse me, I-I need some fresh air,” Clark eventually manages to excuse himself, Bruce still holding onto his hand, pleadingly looking at him, until he can’t anymore, the group cooing about ‘young love’ and something else Clark can’t hear as he walks out of earshot. 

Bruce was no other than thè Bruce Wayne. Now that Clark knew, it was all so obvious. There was just no way a new rugged haircut and a five o’clock shadow could transform slick rich-boy, Bruce Wayne, into someone unrecognizable, but somehow, Clark had fallen hook, line, and sinker. But before he had the chance to think more about it, footsteps approached from behind him. 

“I assume the cat is out of the bag?” Alfred’s kind voice asks gently from beside him, a cup of his favorite tea from the store offered to him. 

“Pennyworth,” Clark chuckles humorlessly as everything falls into place. 

‘How could he be this blind, this stupid?!’ 

“Was everything just a lie?” Clark asks, cursing himself for sounding so weak and desperate. 

“Master Bruce forbade me to say anything and my subtle hints went unnoticed. I do apologize, Master Kent, it was never our intention to cause harm.” Alfred gives as an answer, not really saying anything at all. 

“What I can say is that Master Bruce has not stopped talking about you since the day he met you. I have not seen him as nervous and scared since the trial of his parents' murderer until earlier today. There is nothing in this world that can disguise that, Master Clark” Alfred’s words calm something racing inside of Clark, something he didn’t think could be calmed down at the moment. Yet, as Bruce approaches them on the balcony Clark fled to, the rage and fear inside of him had calmed considerably. 

“Alfred,” Bruce greets as the older man walks past him. 

The silence stretches on as they stand on the balcony. Clark doesn’t turn around to face Bruce and Bruce doesn’t step forward to stand beside Clark. They stand in a stalemate for long minutes until Clark can’t take it anymore. 

“How much of it was real?” Clark finds himself asking, his voice sounding hollow, even to his own ears. 

“All of it,” Bruce croaks, the words sounding like a plea. 

“How much, Mr. Wayne,” Clark sneers Bruce’s surname angrily as he turns around to face Bruce. 

The anger that exploded inside him immediately falters as the air leaves his lungs in a rush of pained evacuation as he sees Bruce’s face. The older man looks heartbroken, his eyes shiny even if his jaw is set in a stubborn lock. Clark reads his body language like an open book though and at once, Alfred’s words rush back to him. In front of him stood a man that had everything, but fearing to lose the only thing that actually mattered to him. 

“Bruce, please,” Clark begs gently as he watches Bruce’s eyes close. A second later his jaw unhinges and his brilliant blue eyes open to stare directly into his own eyes. 

“Making a suit doesn’t take that long,” Bruce rushes out, voice rough and hurried, “It normally takes somewhere between one-to-two weeks.” Bruce looks almost ashamed as he says this. 

“I just wanted to spend more time with you, Clark,” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he unlocks the rest of his body, the proud and regal man before Clark all but falling in on himself. 

“This eccentric, naive, and kind natured man who walked into my store two months ago looked at me as if I was a normal man, which in theory when you remove my money, I am, he took my breath away. Clark, you stole my heart and for the first time in my life, I feared I wouldn’t measure up, so I played along.” Bruce admitted in a rush as he leaned on the balcony railing, hands rubbing at his face when he finished. 

“Wha-” Clark starts. 

“I borrowed that car from an employee and I have no idea how to drive a stick. I had to call Alfred to come to help me when I rounded the corner so you couldn’t see me, and I never lost your measurements, you were there when I transferred them to the tablet,” Bruce straightens up again and meets Clark’s eyes. 

“We come from two different worlds, Clark, but if I could choose, if I could dream, I would want to live in your world. I can’t remember the last time I felt as much like myself as I’ve done since meeting you. You knocked the walls off from around my heart and pierced it, branding your claim on me.” 

Clark is dumbfounded where he stands staring back into the deep blue orbs he fell in love with. The only thing Brue had turned out to lie about was details that Clark found he didn’t really care about. Who didn’t long for a relationship built on common ground when everyone wanted you for money and fame? Who could fault someone for wanting to spend as much time as possible with the person holding one’s affection? And who hadn’t decorated their skillsets to impress someone once or twice?

“I would take it or leave it if I were you, Master Kent. That is the most emotions he has willingly offered in the past twenty-four years,” Alfred’s dry voice comments suddenly from the side. 

“I hate to be the bringer of bad news,” Alfred says, arching a pointed brow at Bruce, “But I am afraid that duty calls,”

“I understand if my actions have ruined any chance we had, Clark, but if there’s still a chance...” Bruce leaves off, looking the part of a kicked puppy as his jaw sets once more, obviously steeling himself for rejection. 

“Tell me the truth then,” Clark asks, no, demands. 

“W-what?” Bruce stutters, eyes widening in surprise.

“You heard me,” Clark smiles gently, holding his breath as he takes a chance. 

“I - yes.” Bruce hums before squaring his shoulders and clearing his throat. 

“Clark Kent, I love you.” 

That was not what Clark had expected when he asked Bruce to tell him the truth. He had expected some form of riddled confession, neatly wrapped up in slight denial. Maybe if he pushed it, Bruce would have asked him to be his boyfriend. But nothing like this. 

“Wait, that was not what I...” Bruce looks at him with a panicked expression. “I mean, I meant it, but I didn’t mean for you to know that...yet. Hmm -” Bruce hums and tries again. 

“I would be honored if you would give me a second chance, Clark,” The execution is as smooth as a knife to hot butter, making Clark’s stomach sping with excitement. He’s as helpless as ever to hold back the smile that crosses his lips as he closes in on Bruce. 

“If you lie to me again,” Clark warns through his spreading grin. 

“I won’t...much,” Bruce promises, eyes glittering as he swallows loudly. 

“I will hold you to that,” Clark grins.

The distance between them closes, Bruce’s hand coming up to cup Clark’s face before finally, finally, their lips meet in a gentle but desperate kiss. It’s everything Clark ever imagined it would be, Bruce’s muscular body holding him close, the warmth seeping through their suits to meet in the middle. When they break apart, it’s only to look into each other’s eyes before their lips meet in another hungry lock, this time with more confidence, both of them knowing what the other feels, that their chapter hadn’t ended unexpectedly, that their own fairytale had just begun. 

Together, they would ride into the sunset and live happily ever after. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An epilouge will be posted later today! 😄


	6. Smutilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is a story without a good smutilogue?  
> I felt like this story needed a good and steamy ending, although the last chapter ended pretty sweetly, so here's the awkward smut lol

The night had been a blur of dancing, laughing, and introductions. Clark had managed to get more than a fair share of stories through Bruce alone, and even then, the people around them seemed to be willing enough to go into detail as they gossiped about everyone else. Clark's head was spinning before dinner was served, a beautifully orchestrated culinary adventure that left Clark's out watering for more. Bruce was smiling beside him, hand never actually leaving the clutches of Clark's hold for longer than strictly necessary. 

When by the end of the evening Bruce had tensed up, spine going ramrod straight, Clark had looked around, wondering what it could be this time. Of course, he knew about playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne's escapades from the way Lois gossiped about them, but from what he had figured out that evening, there never was much truth behind the rumors. 

"So uh...." Bruce swallowed audibly, "Just how much do you know about my life from the media?" Bruce asks nervously, the palm of his hand getting clammy once more. 

"That depends on what you're fishing after, Bruce," Clark decides to be vague, chuckling to himself as that immediately makes Bruce's eyes widen. 

"W-well...-"

"Father, is this the man you have decided to wed?" A snotty sound called from beside them, making Bruce's eyes twitch with annoyance as his eyebrows pinched together. 

"You must be Damian. It's nice to finally meet you," Clark smiles as he squeezes Bruce's hand reassuringly. 

"I was under the impression that father kept us a secret, Mr. Kent," Damian replies but holds out his hand to shake Clark's. 

"Shut it, devil spawn," A tall and broad man drawls as he leans on Damian's head. "Good to see it worked out between the two of you. He's been a love-sick puppy for months now,"

"Jason," Bruce warns, but the fond smile that crosses his lips is a dead giveaway as to how fond he is of his next oldest. 

"Clark, I uh..." Bruce starts but gives up. "Where are Dick and Tim?" He asks instead. 

"Here," pipes up behind them and then, the entire Wayne family stands before Clark. 

It's a reporter's wet dream to have them all gathered, Clark knows that, but for the life of him, he just doesn't care. The boys, for all their nonchalant calm, looks nervous, as if awaiting Clark's approval of them. It almost breaks Clark's heart when the two oldest look at him with almost more desperation than the two youngest. 

"Clark, these are my sons. Dick's the oldest, then there's Jason. As you know, we had a little scare with him for a while," Bruce says, ruffling the white streak in Jason's hair as he smiles fondly at him, "Then there's Tim, the brain of the family, and last, but not least, Damian." 

"It's so good to meet you all," Clark smiles, "Are you alright with me seeing your father?"

"I like this man, father. Don't mess this up," Damian nods, more so to himself than anyone else, before he turns to leave. 

"Don't mind him, he takes a while to get used to. But yeah, you make Bruce happy in a way we can't," Dick smiles, as he takes Tim and Jason's shoulder and turns them around to leave. 

"Dami's right, I like him," He can hear Jason mutter. 

"His eyes crinkle," Tim adds helpfully as they disappear into the crowd. 

"I'm so sorry, Calrk. That was not how I wanted to breach the subject of my sons or even how to meet them," Bruce hurries to say, clutching onto Clark's hand as if afraid that it will somehow disappear if he doesn't. 

"A little hard not to know about your sons when I learned who you actually were," Clark smirks as he folds his arms around Bruce's shoulders, feeling bold all of a sudden. 

"Y-yeah?" Bruce falters as he wounds his arms around Clark's waist, smile growing as he leaned in for a kiss. 

"Gentlemen," Aldred's dry voice sails in from the side after a short while, "Might I suggest taking this bout of emotional response to a more private setting?" 

Looking up from their little cocoon, Clark notices how many of the guests are looking their way, sly smiles on their faces as they whisper and fawn over their little display of affection towards each other. 

"Would it be too soon to ask if you would want to stay the night?" Bruce asks, not breaking his hold from around Clark's waist, even when one arm lifts to gently cup Clark's cheek. 

"You can have your own room if you want to," He whispers, just for Clark to hear between the two of them. 

Could he just sleep over? Clark almost felt like a little kid where he stood as he tried to decide what to do. Obviously, he wanted to stay over, wanted to be with Bruce, wanted everything that that entailed. But so much had changed in the span of a few hours that evening and he wasn't sure how to really feel about it. His choice however was taken from him when Bruce kissed his forehead and smiled. 

"Alfred, would you mind clearing the airspace for me?" Bruce said, smiling softly as he grabbed a hold of Clark's hand. 

"Certainly, Sir," Alfred replies before starting to move. 

"Wait, what? Hold on!" Clark wakes up from his little daze. "What?"

"I don't want to pressure you into staying, Calrk, and as you know, driving isn't exactly my forte." At that, he stops to grin and chuckle, "Flying, on the other hand, is something I'm actually good at. It would take much less time to get you home too."

"You're not flying me anywhere, mister." Clark all but barks as he scowls at Bruce. "As gentlemanly as you're being, Bruce, I never got to answer,"

"You didn' say anything, so I assumed..." Bruce starts, but Clark interrupts him. 

"I didn't say anything right away because I had a lot to process before I could make up my mind. You did spring a lot on me just a few hours ago, you know," Clark smirks, playing with the hair at the back of Bruce's neck. 

"Fair point," Bruce grins back.

Looking into Bruce's eyes, Clark could see the hope clear as day in the other man. He'd be lying if he didn't want Bruce just as much, maybe even more, but they hadn't exactly put a name tag on what they were, hadn't really discussed anything. His Ma would be so disappointed with him if she knew he'd jumped into bed with Bruce without knowing, and if he was honest with himself, he wanted to know for sure before taking their, admittedly odd, relationship any further. 

"No pressure, Clark," Bruce smiles gently, the genuine sparkle enough for Clark to decide what to do. 

"I want to," He smiles just as gently back. If his cheeks turned red as a fire truck, Bruce was kind enough not to comment on it. 

"Then, if I may, gentlemen?" Alfred's voice penetrated their little cocoon, "I took the liberty of preparing your master bedroom for two this morning. I did not want to presume, but it would be untimely of me to not be prepared." 

The coy, barely-there smile on Alfred's face as he turns around to lead the way through a few rooms and then up a beautiful staircase, is enough to send a full body blush through Clark. The butler, basically Bruce's father, was too smart for his own good. 

"He does this," Bruce whispers as they follow Alfred. "You could just think about something, and he would already have prepared whatever it is hours ago." 

Clark snorted at that, trying to rake his mind for something to prove Bruce wrong, but as the thought of sleepwear crossed his mind, Alfred speaks again. 

"I had the cheek, Master Clark, to prepare a pair of pajamas for you, based on your suit measurements. I pray that you do forgive me," And with that, he walks on down the hall, not noticing how Clark falters and clutches Bruce's arm. 

"Scary..." Clark whispers which have Bruce laughing loudly, a sound coming from deep within his stomach, only to bounce around Clark's body. It's a beautiful sound. 

Alfred bid them goodnight after opening the master bedroom door, leaving them to an awkward silence as the door closed behind them. Clark almost wished for the floor to open up and steal him away, just so that he could escape the sudden awkwardness between them. It all felt like a script that they were supposed to follow, so when Bruce got in the bed beside him, Clark expected the charade of intimate touches and hot, breathy whispers to begin. Instead, though, Bruce leaned over to kiss Clark's cheek before grabbing his hand and intertwining their fingers. 

It felt like a relief to have the pressure disappear from between them. If possible, Clark fell even harder in love with the man holding his hand. Rolling over on his side to face Bruce, Clark smiled as the moonlight caught the older man's handsome features. Looking at Bruce now, it was so obvious that he was Bruce Wayne. How the simple changes had fooled Clark enough to not realize was embarrassing, but if he had known from the start, Clark knows that they wouldn't be where they were today. 

"I can hear you thinking, Clark," Bruce mumbles, opening an eye to look at him. 

"Just thinking..." Clark smiles back. 

"Hmm..." Bruce hums before letting go of Clark's hand to open his arms. "Just an invitation," He says, closing his eyes again. 

Clark, mildly shocked, almost loses the window of opportunity as Bruce's arm starts to fall again. Scooting over to Bruce, Clark slots himself close to Bruce's massive chest, taking a deep drag of Bruce's warm scent as Bruce lays his arm across Clark's waist. It's surprisingly comfortable, not at all the awkward situation that Clark, for a moment, had feared it would become. Before he knows it, Clark fast asleep in Bruce's arms, the two of them fitting together perfectly. It's late morning by the time they wake up again. 

Bruce's chest is plastered to Clark's back as he lay half on top of Clark, their fingers twined together as Bruce's head rests between Clark's shoulder blades.

"Good morning," Bruce rumbles, the vibration from his voice coursing through Clark's body, only to explode in his lower abdomen where an already rigid erection awaits. "Sleep well?"

"So good," Clark moans more breathless than he intended to.

"Y-yeah?" Bruce falters, immediately picking up on Clark's arousal. 

Clark just groans as he rolls the rest of the way over to lay on his stomach, embarrassment coloring his nape bright red. He can feel the massive chub of Bruce's erection on the back of his thigh as he brought Bruce with him, the solid line almost mouthwatering, but before Clark can gather enough brain cells to do something about it, Bruce excuses himself with a gentle kiss to Clark's shoulder before he goes to the bathroom. It isn't long before the sound of the shower flows into the bedroom through the closed door. 

It takes Clark five minutes to gather enough confidence to open the bathroom door and pad over to the massive glass-walled walk-in shower Bruce is standing in. His heart is beating almost painfully hard in his chest for multiple reasons, but when Bruce turns around and smiles gently, almost relieved, Clark finds the courage to soldier on. 

"I-is this alright?" He finds himself asking, head bowed in uncertainty. 

"If it's what you want, yeah," Bruce breathes, suddenly right in front of him. 

With his bowed head, Clark is staring straight at Bruce's angry erection, his thighs spread just so to make space. Nodding, Clark swallows deeply before lifting the shirt up over his head, bearing his upper body for Bruce to see. Clasping the back of Bruce's head, Clark clumsily pulls him in for a sloppy, too desperate kiss. Every tough that follows after are too clumsy, too desperate, and uncoordinated. Big hands grabbing ahold of whatever skin they can get to as their lips share hungry kisses. 

It's as far from romantic as possible, but every nerve inside of Clark sings to the beautiful hum Bruce brings out of him. When a warm palm wraps around Clark's straining erection and picks up an almost lazy slide, the most pathetic sound Clark's ever made in his life escapes his throat. He can't help but spread his thighs as Bruce pulls him apart with gentle strokes that don't quite fit the desperation of the moment. Moaning into Bruce's mouth, Clark is grateful for the warm spray of water when it hits his back, cascading over his shoulders to smooth the way of Bruce's slowly moving hand. 

Clark eventually gets half a brain cell to work enough to clumsily grab a hold of Bruce's erection, the heavy member withing strongly as Clark wraps his finger around it. It's almost fever hot to the touch, but more than that, Clark marvels of the sheer width of it. The head is a perfect size where the foreskin wraps the tip ina soft blanket on every upward stroke and slides silky soft downward to be met by a beautifully widening shaft before narrowing down to a still pretty fat base. It couldn't be more perfect, even if Clark had daydreamed about the perfect penis. 

Growing more confident, Clark had Bruce's thighs wobbling unsteadily as his forehead lands on Clark's shoulder seeking support. The beautiful groans and hisses he manages to pull out of Bruce are enough to boost his confidence so that Clark takes control of the situation. None too gently, he shoves Bruce up against the cold tiled wall, pulling a growled hiss from Bruce, their teeth clacking together for a second as their kiss grows feral. 

"F-fuuck..." Bruce moans as Clark lifts him up by his underarms, his eyes all but ablaze as he stares down at Clark with hot wonder. 

Looking up at Bruce, Clark groans when thick thighs wrap around his waist, locking so securely it's almost as if they were made to sit on there. Taking hold of Bruce's cock once more, Clark gives the head a wet twist, watching as Bruce's eyes disappear back into his skull when his head falls back. He wants to see more, desperate to know every since of Bruce's body, to be able to remember just how Bruce looked in the throes of passion, the look in his eyes just before he was about to explode with pleasure. 

"B-bed," Bruce stutters as he locks his arms behind Clark's neck, holding on as Clark clumsily walk them the short distance to Bruce's massive bed. 

Wet and dripping, he lays Bruce down as far into the middle of the bed as he gracefully can before going straight for the nightstand, successfully finding the bottle of lube he was looking for. Crawling up between Bruce's parted legs would forever go down in his memories as the most beautiful and arousing sight in his life. Bruce's thick thighs parted, his straining erection twitching where it rests in the crook of his abdomen, the long, wide expanse of muscled that followed up, up, up until beautiful, sparkling blue eyes met his. Bruce was absolutely gorgeous. 

Taking Bruce's lips in a deep kiss, Clark can't help but collapse on top of his warm body. It feels like a whole lifetime has passed since Clark held him in the shower, but at the same time, only a minute had passed them. It's incomprehensible how desperate Clark is for Bruce, how he needs the other man in any way he can have him. As Clark looks into Bruce's eyes again, he feels comforted to see the same desperation shining back at him through the now almost black blown orbs. 

Popping the cap of the bottle of lube, Clark has to grin when the sound makes Bruce's cock jump at the same time he watches Bruce's full asscheeks clench. Quickly, he warms the lube between his finger, dodging Bruce's impatient hands as they grab for his head, grabbing for anything at all to ground him. When Clark eventually deems the lube warm enough, he takes pity on Bruce, swallowing his straining erection down his throat in one go at the same time as he circles a finger at the entrance of Bruce's muscle, spreading the slick around before gently pressing, marveling at the tight, hot heat that reluctantly gives him access before softening completely. 

The deliciously hot, slick heat that engulfs his finger has Clark's own cock jumping against the mattress. There's too much to focus on, too much happening at the same time, and Clark almost sobs when he realizes that he won't be able to monitor them all, that he won't be able to watch every reaction Bruce had. He consoles himself with the twitching member in his mouth, sucking sloppily as Bruce's fingers finally find their leverage in his hair, holding onto Clark as if his life depended on it, and for all Clark knew, maybe it did. 

The sounds emerging from Bruce's throat sure made him think so. He had never once imagined Bruce to be this vocal, this respondent to Clark's touch. By the time he had three fingers inside of Bruce's buttery soft opening, Bruce was sobbing his desperation, face sweaty and red as he looked into Clark's eyes as he lazily sucked on Bruce's cock. Deciding that his lover was prepared enough, Clark slowly pulls out, at the same time pulling off of Bruce's cock, not letting up on his suction, slowly letting Bruce's foreskin slip from his raw, slick lips before grinning shark-like. 

"Oh fuck me," Bruce moans as his head falls back, eyes closing as his hips stuttered. Clark notes how Bruce reacted to eye contact for another time, as he licked up his cock. 

"How do you want this?" Clark asks, voice raw and rough as he watches Bruce's blue-blue eyes blink open to focus on him. 

"Like this, Clark. please..." And then Bruce opens his arms and Clark is gone. 

The initial push when his head breaches Bruce's hot, soft opening, is almost enough to have Clark's would leave his body. Bruce is tight and buttery soft at the same time, the hot and slick passage inviting him further and further in until Clark's balls come to rest against Bruce's ass. Groaning, Clark hides his face in the crook os Bruce's neck, the older man doing the same as they hold onto each other. 

What started out as hot and desperate, simmers down to something intimate and sensual as Clark gently starts to move. The loft, slick move of his hips dragging the most beautiful sounds out of Bruce where he clutches onto Clark's shoulders. The heat between them builds, their bodies slick and flushed as they bring against each other. Sloppy kisses make way for sweet, loving words, whispered between thrusts so slow it could hardly be defined as sex. 

Bruce's eyes are watery blue, full, kissed raw lips parted as he breathes, shares the same air that Clark breathes. It is the most emotional experience of Clark's entire life, the cocoon they have created, something sacred he's almost afraid he'll never experience again. With new desperation, Clark takes Bruce's lips once more, a hand gently brushing away the sweaty bangs on Bruce's forehead as they move. He knows his end is near, though by the way Bruce's cock jumps between the slick hold of their bodies, he knows that Bruce isn't too far behind. Thrusts faltering, Clark fights the need to squeeze his eyes shut, desperate to see Bruce come undone beneath him, to see the older man fall, let go and crash against the cliff that is Clark moving inside of him. 

"I love you," Clark whispers between gentle, sloppy kisses, and just like that, Bruce falls apart. 

The slow, almost feathery light fluttering of Bruce's muscles around him is almost lost until they grow in intensity. Suddenly, Bruce is strung so tightly, back bowing beneath Clark's considerable weight as his cock jumps and moves between them, and then, wet heat spreads between their stomachs, licking their skin even more. The rhythmical pulses that squeeze and release Clark's cock have his spine all but on fire and when blue eyes once more open to look at him, when that soft, gentle smile smiles just for him, it's all Clark can do to hold on as his orgasm rushes through him with a force he's never before experienced before. 

When he comes to again, he's laying on Bruce's chest, a firm heartbeat thumping away beneath his head as lazy fingers card through his sweaty hair. He's pretty sure every bone in his body has left him, a heaviness having taken hold of him, rendering him boneless and at Bruce's mercy until he could wound himself together once more. Clark's not even surprised when he wakes up in the same position, what must be hours later. Bruce sleeps as he raises from his chest, wincing as Bruce's dried come sticks to their skin, the slight tugging enough to rouse Bruce from his sleep. 

"Sorry," Clark mumbles as he tries to move away only to feel his still semi-hard cock starting to slip from Bruce's warm hole. 

Immediately, hands grab onto his asscheeks, pressing him back in again. 

"Please, stay," Bruce begs, voice so broken that it sends a shiver through Clark's body. 

"Y-yeah?" Clark checks, just to make sure. 

"Please," Bruce hums again, this time turning Clark's head to give him a gentle kiss, and fuck if Bruce wasn't perfect already. 

They're slow to get out of bed, even slower while cleaning up, the water running cold, something Bruce had never experienced before. When they eventually manage to crawl back down to the kitchen, morning and noon has long since passed, Alfred tinkering away at the kitchen, serving them breakfast food as soon as they sit down at the table. It's a comfortable silence that overtakes them as they eat, Bruce reading a newspaper as he slowly sips his coffee. And then, all of a sudden, it hit's Clark. 

"I'm sitting on the hottest story in history, "Bruce Wayne unmasked", and there is nothing I can do about it. Life just isn't fair, Bruce," Clark whines as he grins at the older man dramatically rolling his eyes behind his newspaper. 

"I seem to have gotten a pretty good deal out of it," He smiles, pretending to ignore Clark's whining at the same time as a food nudges Clark's under the table, tapping thrice. 

'I love you'

Smiling and blushing, Clark taps back four times. 

'I love you too'

~ The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and I hope you've enjoyed!
> 
> Make sure to take a look at their amazing [art!! ](https://twitter.com/satan_jnr/status/1277554226260963328?s=19)


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